Last Hope
by ShiSaiyan
Summary: Harry Ron and Hermione enter their 5th year at Hogwarts, only to be confronted with thier 20 year-old future selves!
1. Default Chapter

Harry looked up at the looming spectacle of Hogwarts as he stepped off the Hogwarts Express and onto the platform. He heard Hagrid calling for the first years and smiled to himself, remembering that first time he'd come to the famous school for young witches and wizards. He'd been terrified and amazed at once, but had quickly adjusted to the wizarding world, finding it much preferable to the muggle world he resided in during the holidays with his hated Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. The discovery that he was a wizard had changed his life and opened his eyes to a world he hadn't thought possible.  
  
Harry was jolted out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look into the smiling, freckled face of his best friend, Ron Weasley. "All right, there, Harry?" he asked, his short red hair being mussed even more by the slight wind. "All right. Just thinking about our first year." Ron let out a huge sigh. "Yeah, things were a bit different then, weren't they?" "Not really. We just didn't know then about all the horrible things that were going on. Now that we do, things seem much worse, but it's really all a matter of perception," came a lilting female voice. Ron and Harry both rolled their eyes and grinned as the female member of their little trio reached them, looking and sounding just as smart and cheeky as she always did. Hermione Granger smiled at them, her eyes shining brightly, her hair just a bit bushy around her face, as usual, and then glanced at the imposing figure of their school. "Well then, we should probably get going shouldn't we? Wouldn't want to miss the sorting." Following Hermione's sure-footed lead, Harry and Ron walked slowly toward Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 


	2. 2

Through tear blurred green eyes, Harry looked at the once majestic visage of Hogwarts, now only a crumbling ruin. He stood on what remained of the platform where the Hogwarts Express used to arrive and depart, bringing students to and from the famous school for young witches and wizards. That first glimpse of the school was burned into Harry's mind, so mysterious and proud, rising from the dark, nighttime mists of the lake, symbolizing hope, hope for a new life, away from his hated muggle relatives. Now all that was left of the wonderful old castle was a pile of stones.  
  
A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his painful thoughts and he turned to look at the grim face of Ron Weasley. Despite the red hair and freckles, Ron no longer had the appearance of a smiling, happy child. His hair was long, down to his shoulders, as was Harry's. In the fight for survival, keeping a short, neat haircut just didn't seem like a top priority. Besides, the longer hair helped keep their ears warm on those many nights they were forced to seek shelter outdoors. A scar ran down the left side of Ron's face, along the edge of his jaw, barely touching the corner of his eye. It wasn't all that noticeable, but Harry had known Ron since before all this madness had begun and the scar was only another reminder of how horribly it had all gone wrong. "All right, Harry?" "All right. You?" Ron nodded. "All right. Just a little nervous. What if this doesn't work? What if we can't help them?" "We will. We have to. We can't afford to think like that," came the soft, tired, female voice. Hermione reached out and grasped Ron's hand, squeezing reassuringly. Her adorable face, once so bright and ready to take on the world, was pale and drawn. Her long brown hair was braided into hundreds of tiny braids and pulled back, out of her face. Her brown eyes were no longer sparkly with intelligence and optimism. Now they were the eyes of one who'd seen too much, who had witnessed too many horrors and now harbored only determination with the barest amount of hope. Draco stood behind her, his white-blond hair falling into his face, silver locks over mercury eyes, his mouth set in a grim line, the thin scar across his right cheekbone standing out in stark relief. "Are you all ready?" Hermione asked. Ron and Harry glanced at each other, their faces serious and stoic. "Yeah. We're ready," said Ron. Harry nodded and, closing her eyes, Hermione began the incantation that would take them back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 


	3. 3

Hermione looked up in alarm when something crashed into the fireplace behind her. Spinning toward the noise, her mouth fell open in shock and she stared, mesmerized, as four people stepped out of the flames. She reached out and groped, wildly, for Ron and Harry, who were busy pouring over their collections of famous witches and wizards cards. Grasping their arms, she spun them around, to face the newcomers to the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron's mouth fell open and Harry gasped. "Dad?" he whispered, as the smoke cleared and a tall man with untidy black hair and glasses who looked remarkably like Harry appeared. The man gave a funny half-smile and shook his head and then they saw the scar on his forehead, a thin line in the shape of a lightening bolt. Harry gaped. "You're-me!" he said. The man nodded. "I am. I believe you know Ron, Hermione and Draco," he said, waving a hand at the three people behind him. "I need to sit down," Hermione said, faintly.  
  
Safely seated in an overstuffed armchair, Hermione stared in wide- eyed wonder as an older version of herself studied her, intently. "Uh, pardon, but who- I mean- when- how-" Harry stuttered. Elder Harry gave a lopsided grin. "I'll be happy to explain. If you'll all sit, please." Ron and Harry sat on either side of their Hermione and stared, waiting. Elder Harry looked at elder Hermione and nodded and she began.  
  
At the end of Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione's fifth year at Hogwarts, Voldemort rose to complete and total power within the wizarding world and quickly set about taking over the muggle world as well. A final conflict with Professor Dumbledore and the students of Hogwarts had decided that outcome. If things had gone differently, Voldemort's plan would have failed and he would have been destroyed, once and for all. A simple mistake, a miscalculation, an instant of bad judgment. Something so small it would normally have been deemed insignificant was all that had weighed the final decision. In the end, Voldemort had won. Dumbledore and the Hogwarts students were defeated that day and Hogwarts was destroyed. In his last days, Dumbledore had figured out a spell that would send the four remaining fighters for their cause back in time, to help their younger selves stop Voldemort's ascension to power. Whatever they managed to do there would not fix the world they had come from. That future, that timeline, was already decided, already created and nothing could change it. The two timelines ran parallel to each other in the endless mists and mysteries of space and time. Though they could never save their own timeline, they could, perhaps stop the same from happening in this time. Thus, they had used the spell Dumbledore had given them and sent themselves back in time, to when they were only 15, just starting their fifth year at Hogwarts and Voldemort had yet to make his move.  
  
Hermione blinked and stared at the older version of herself. "So, you're us, from an alternate future?" Elder Hermione nodded. "From a horrible future. One we must stop from happening here, at all costs." Elder Ron reached out and grasped her hand, pulling her close and sliding an arm around her shoulders. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, wearily. Ron and Hermione looked at their future selves, then at each other, in alarm. Harry pretended not to notice. He was looking at elder Draco, intently. "What about you? You're a Slytherin. Your father is at Voldemort's right hand," he said, his green eyes narrowed. Draco bowed his head in acknowledgement. "That's true. In my fifth year, my father gave me the choice to become a full-fledged Death Eater and serve the Dark Lord at his side. I declined and, well, lets just say my punishment wasn't pleasant. You lot saved my life that year and ever since then we've been side-by-side," Draco said, with a grin. Harry fought down a shiver. Seeing a smile on Malfoy's face that held no malice was just plain creepy. Admittedly, this was an older, mature Malfoy. They were all different, he observed, glancing at each of them in turn.  
  
He was tall and, while a little on the thin side, he was still broader in the shoulder and chest than his father had been. He was pleased to see that there was definition to his muscles, even through the thin t- shirt he wore.  
  
Ron was tall and lanky and looked a lot like his older brother, Bill. His carrot red hair had darkened and grown out past his shoulders and his freckles had faded. The scar on the left side of his face made him look tougher, more serious. His blue eyes were jaded and seemed to liven up only when he looked at elder Hermione, who was nestled quite comfortably against him.  
  
Hermione, of course, had grown into a beautiful woman, all soft curves and graceful movements. Her hair was braided into lots of little braids and pulled back, out of her face and her brown eyes were sad and a little scary to look upon. She seemed to draw strength from elder Ron's nearness, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. Looking at the two of them, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he had ever had anyone special like that in the future.  
  
Finally, his gaze drifted to Draco. His hair, that strange, silver blond color, had always been a little long, but now hung halfway down his back, held behind his head in a loose ponytail and falling into his eyes in the front. A thin scar marred his right cheekbone, and Harry wondered if that had been part of his punishment for rejecting Voldemort. There was no malice in those mercurial silver eyes, only a tired acceptance and a look that said he'd seen it all and it wasn't good. All four of them were dressed in what remained of jeans and boots that Harry recognized as being made of dragon hide. Threadbare t-shirts stretched across Harry, Ron and Draco's chests, while Hermione wore an old, tattered sweater. Their faces were smudged with soot from their travel through the flames and under the blackness there was dirt, from rough living.  
  
After a long uncomfortable silence, the younger Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, then. I think we all know what we should do first." She glanced at elder Hermione and both of them grinned and spoke as one, "Dumbledore." 


	4. 4

"I should have known I'd be seeing you soon," said Dumbledore, in that all knowing voice of his. He smiled at the four time travelers, but the sparkle in his eyes was missing. He was worried, that was clear. The elder Harry hesitated, then reached out a shaking hand. Understanding lit Dumbledore's face and he pulled him in for a hug. After a moment, Harry pulled away and Dumbledore reached out for the elder Hermione. One by one, he drew them in and hugged them, even Draco and Harry, Ron and Hermione realized that in their time, they had seen Dumbledore die, defeated by Voldemort. That, more than almost anything else they had seen and heard, managed to shake them to the core and they were suddenly afraid. "Well then, we can't go around calling you by your names and confusing everyone, can we? I presume I thought of that and gave you alternate identities," said Dumbledore, stepping away from the emotional scene. "Yes, sir," said Hermione. "Harry is Gryffindor, because of the time he pulled Godfric's sword from the Sorting Hat. We called Ron Phoenix, because of his hair and for Fawkes." Both Rons blushed at that, lowering their eyes. "My middle name is Nicole, so he, I mean, you said I would be called Niki. And Draco is Dragon, for obvious reasons." Draco grinned, a little embarrassed. "Very well then. Since we'll need a logical reason for your presence and we also happen to be short one Defense Against The Dark Arts Teacher, I propose the four of you take over that position and do what you can to prepare, erm, yourselves and the other students for the coming conflicts." Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, tiredly. With a soft caw, Fawkes, the Phoenix flew from his perch and landed on the worn oak surface of the desk, his fiery head resting against Dumbledore's hand, as if to comfort him. "Now that all of that is settled, I suggest you all retire. Harry, Ron and Hermione have class in the morning and Niki, Dragon, Gryffindor and Phoenix should get some rest before they have to face everyone and accept their position officially. Defense Against The Dark Arts classes will begin a day late this year. Now, all of you, off to bed."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione stood and began to file out of the room, but Gryffindor looked back. "Um, sir, where should we sleep?" "I imagine the Gryffindor dormitories would be the best place. There are few there that would be so bold as to question you, or so dense as to not know you for what and whom you are." The time travelers nodded and followed their younger selves out of Dumbledore's office, back through the maze of corridors and staircases that led to the large painting of the fat lady, wearing a pink silk dress. "Password?" the painting inquired. "Canary Creams," said Ron, tiredly. The fat lady nodded and the painting swung forward, revealing a round hole in the wall. The seven of them passed through the doorway and into the Gryffindor Common Room. "Well, I suppose we should figure out the sleeping arrangements," said Ron, nervously and Harry glanced curiously at him before realizing what it was that had him upset. Niki and Phoenix, the elder versions of Hermione and Ron, would obviously be sharing quarters. A quick glance at Hermione confirmed that she too was unsure how to act about this. "Why don't Niki and Phoenix take Oliver's old room," Harry said, quickly. The former captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team had graduated the previous year and his room had not been filled. Because of Voldemort's resurrection at the end of the last year, the enrollment at Hogwarts had been surprisingly small, as parents felt the need to keep their children closer to home. Therefore, the amount of new Gryffindors was almost pathetic, numbering only five. However, the shortage of students did present a solution to their problem of sleeping quarters. Niki and Phoenix agreed that Oliver Woods' old room would be fine and set off in that general direction. Dragon and Gryffindor announced that they would sleep in Percy's old room. There were two beds there, but one of them had gone empty while Percy was in residence, because no one could stand sharing a room with the high and mighty Percy Weasley. Sleeping arrangements settled, the Gryffindors and their elder counterparts bid one another goodnight and made their way to their beds. Hermione paused at the doorway to Ron and Harry's room, glancing back at them. "You know, I almost don't want to go back to the girls' dormitory. Having them here is like having a family back together again. Somehow, it just feels right when all of us are together." Harry and Ron glanced at each other, then back at Hermione, nodding. "You're right. It does feel like we all belong together, like they complete some kind of circle," said Harry. "Well," said Hermione, after a long pause, "goodnight then." They watched her go, without a word and then quietly changed into their pajamas and slid between their sheets. Both of them blew out the candles beside their beds and whispered goodnight to one another, and then the dorm was silent. Sleep did not claim them for a long time afterward. 


	5. 5

Harry woke to see two large, green, tennis ball-sized eyes staring down at him. "Ahh!" The little creature sitting on his chest leapt backward in surprise when Harry sat up. "Dobby! I've told you never to do that to me!" The house elf wrung his hands, nervously. "Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter! Dobby is only wishing to give his hellos," Dobby said. Harry sighed and closed his eyes. "Hello, Dobby. I didn't mean to be short with you. You just startled me. That really isn't a good way to wake a person up." "Harry Potter is tired still? Perhaps because of his visitors late last night?" Harry paused and looked at Dobby again. "How do you know about them, Dobby?" "Dobby is a house elf, sir. House elves is knowing things," Dobby said, glancing away. Harry stared at Dobby for a few moments, then concluded that yes, Dobby was a house elf and since the house elves moved silently and nearly invisibly through Hogwarts at all hours of the day and night, it should come as no surprise that they knew many things that others did not. "I has already wished the other Harry Potter good morning and he is telling Dobby to call him Gryffindor, sir. Do you have a new name as well, sir?" Dobby inquired and Harry blinked, then decided not to ask how Dobby knew that Gryffindor was in fact an older version of himself. After all, house elves is knowing things. "No, Dobby. I'm still just Harry." Dobby nodded with a toothy grin. "Very good, sir. Dobby has said his hellos to sir and Gryffindor, so he must be going. Dobby will be missed in the kitchens. First day breakfast is very important." Before Harry could blink, Dobby was gone, leaving him alone with a slightly snoring Ron and a mind full of questions.  
  
With a slight shiver, he slid out of bed and quickly dressed. Pulling on a pair of jeans and then his Hogwarts robes, he tiptoed out of the room in his socks, clutching his shoes in one hand. The Common Room would be empty at this early hour and the quiet there would give Harry time to think.  
  
Not surprisingly, though, he wasn't the only Harry to think that way. Gryffindor looked up from a steaming cup of coffee when Harry came down the steps. "Morning, Harry," he said, with a lopsided grin. Harry wrinkled his nose. "So, I am going to develop a taste for coffee, am I?" Gryffindor chuckled. "Not really. It's an addiction to caffeine forged by necessity. The heat of the brew has kept many a wizard and witch from freezing to death when fighting for the Resistance. Although it isn't bad like this, laced with cream and sugar. Dobby brought it for me." Harry sat beside Gryffindor, in one of the big, overstuffed armchairs. "Tell me, is Dobby- is he, well, dead, where- I mean, when you come from?" Harry asked, nervously. Gryffindor set his coffee down, slowly and sat back, looking at Harry appraisingly. "Are you sure you want to know these things, Harry?" Harry paused, considering, then decided he'd rather know now, so he could try and prevent it later. "Yes. I'm sure. Please, tell me. Who did we- I mean, will we lose, if we fail?" Gryffindor closed his eyes and took a breath. "Dobby disappeared soon after Voldemort struck Hogwarts the first time. Most of the house elves did. We never found any trace of them, but Dumbledore said that when a house elf dies, his body disappears, lost to that mystical place where only elves can disappear to. The Slytherins were turned on by the rest of the school, even though most of them were just as scared and confused as the rest. Those whose parents were Death Eaters, like Malfoy, were eventually given an ultimatum by their families and by Voldemort, to either join him or die. Those that refused and lived had been taken in by Dumbledore and became some of the most loyal fighters for our cause. However, the division between the houses became even more defined, by fear and stupidity. The houses drew together and anyone that did not belong was mistrusted and scorned. Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws refused to even look at each other. Gryffindor and what remained of Slytherin were in a constant feud that began with vicious pranks and became much more dangerous. Had it continued on that track, I'm sure there would have eventually been murder involved." Gryffindor paused in his speaking and took a drink of his coffee, his eyes focused on a past, Harry's future, that only he could see. "What happened to change it?" asked Harry, hesitantly. Gryffindor blinked and looked at him. "Draco. When Lucius Malfoy gave his son the ultimatum to either join Voldemort at his right hand side or die, Draco refused and tried to run. They caught him, though, and decided to make an example out of him. None of us know exactly what was done to him during his time in captivity, but we've heard him crying out in his sleep and we know the cruxatious curse was used more than once." Harry winced. The cruxatious curse had been put on him once, very briefly and the pain had made him want to die. He could only imagine how it would feel being used as torture, punishment. He wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even the Malfoy of this time, his worst enemy other than Voldemort. "Dumbledore told us he was being held and asked me, Ron and Hermione to go after him. He knew we, above any other, would be able to get him out. With the help of Sirius Black, our godfather, and Professor Lupin, we broke into the Malfoy mansion and freed him. He was being held in the basement, where Lucius had kept an honest to Merlin dungeon intact, shackles on the walls and everything. It was horrible. Malfoy was hanging from chains in the ceiling, pretty much naked. His whole body was filthy and streaked with blood and he was barely lucid. They obviously weren't expecting anyone, because he wasn't under guard." Gryffindor trailed off then, lost in his own recollections and Harry cleared his throat a little, to regain his attention. "Oh, sorry. Well then, after we got him out and got him cleaned up, Draco became one of us and we soon forgot he had ever been a Slytherin. After that, the rest of the school began to come around and the lines between the houses blurred. By the time we graduated, the population had been more than cut in half and we had all banded together, the greatest hope the Resistance had left. I'm 20 years old, Harry, and when I left, we were the last surviving fighters." Harry took a deep breath, as he digested the information he'd been given, then steeled himself and asked his next question. "Who did we lose first, Gryffindor?" Gryffindor sat back, holding his coffee, forgotten, in one hand and looked at him for a long time. Then, when he spoke, his voice was very soft. "Fred and George were found first, victims of the Unforgivable Curses. They had been in the process of gathering information on the Death Eaters. You know how those two were, I mean, are. Sneaky as hell and slick enough to get away with just about anything. I don't know how we got through that. Ron stopped speaking for days afterward. Hermione finally got him to talk again. After that, the deaths came faster. Oliver Wood, who had come back to Hogwarts as a Flying Instructor and Quidditch coach, was next. Then came Hagrid. Sirius and Professor Lupin died defending me and Draco one night on a recon mission." Gryffindor went silent then, lost once more in his painful memories. Harry waited for a moment, before very quietly asking, "And then?" Gryffindor's face paled. "Ginny," he breathed. Harry stared at him for a moment, before slowly turning and seeing Ginny Weasley padding sleepily into the room, her dark red hair mussed and her eyes half open. She spotted Harry and Gryffindor and blinked, confused. "Harry?" "Ginny," said Gryffindor, before realizing she had been speaking to the younger version of himself. "Good morning, Ginny," said Harry. "Harry, what's going on? Who's that?" she asked. "I'll explain it all to you over breakfast, Ginny," said Hermione, entering the Common Room in time to hear Ginny's questions. She took the younger girl by the shoulders and steered her toward the door, with a glance back at Harry and Gryffindor. After they were gone, Harry turned back to Gryffindor and opened his mouth to ask another question, but Ron, Dragon, Phoenix and Niki chose that moment to come downstairs. The three time travelers gravitated toward the coffee on the tray near the fireplace and Ron perched on the arm of Harry's chair. "What happened to Ginny?" asked Ron, softly. Harry flicked his eyes toward his friend and noticed the pale face and serious expression. Ron had heard at least part of their conversation, it appeared. Phoenix, Niki and Dragon glanced at them and settled into chairs, silently, watching Gryffindor for a signal as to how he was going to react. When he didn't speak, Niki took up the question. "Harry and Ginny grew closer after Fred and George's deaths. Ron was too lost in his own grief and I suppose I wasn't the friend I should have been to Ginny. I was too preoccupied with helping Ron. She turned to Harry. We all know, even you, now, in this time, how Ginny has always felt about Harry and now, when she needed him, she naturally turned to him for help. Harry was there for her and the two of them became a couple. It seemed the natural coarse of events and none of us really batted an eye at it. Until she died." Ron's eyes widened and he looked at the empty doorway where his baby sister had just passed through. Niki continued, her voice a little softer and Phoenix and Gryffindor both closed their eyes, each in their own remembered grief. "Voldemort found out about Harry and Ginny's relationship. He got his hands on Ginny and tortured her, trying to get Harry to sacrifice himself. We couldn't let him. If we lost Harry, the rest of the Resistance fighters would have given up. Of all of us, Harry is the most powerful. Without him, we would be nothing. It took Voldemort three days to kill Ginny and when he finished, there wasn't enough of her left to bury."  
  
The silence was deafening. Gryffindor was staring after Ginny and Hermione and Phoenix put a hand on his arm, comfortingly. "We need to get down to the Great Hall. Breakfast will be served soon," said Harry, breaking the silence. Ron nodded and stood up, grabbing his knapsack and leading the way toward the door. Setting down their coffee cups, the elders followed their younger selves out of the Gryffindor Common Room as the rest of the house began to wake. 


	6. 6

Draco Malfoy looked up with a sneer when the four teachers filed into the Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom. The first three of them merely glanced coolly around the room, there eyes passing over him, just like all the other students, except for Potter and his little sidekicks, but then, everyone stared at Potter. The fourth, however, stared right at him, with an expression he couldn't quite identify. All of them looked eerily familiar, but the last one, the one that was looking at him, struck a strange chord in him and he stared back into eyes like molten silver, eyes that he realized may well have been his own. Unnerved by the man, Draco let his gaze wander over the other three.  
  
They did not wear robes like most of the teachers, but instead wore shabby, worn and almost futuristic looking clothes, with dragonhide boots. The three men had long hair and the girl was beautiful. All in all, they looked cool. There was no other word for it. Draco crossed his arms and sat back in his seat to wait. The one up front, with dark hair and glasses, spoke first. "Put your books away. Leave everything but your wands and follow us outside." Intrigued, Draco did as he was told, for once without a smart mouthed comment.  
  
The class filed out of the school and into the field where Hagrid usually taught Care Of Magical Creatures. Without warning, the four teachers spun toward the class, wands raised and shouted simultaneously "Expelliarmus!" The class shrieked and cowered as their wands went flying. All went silent after that as the terrified students stared up at their teachers with wide eyes.  
  
"First lesson: always be prepared for an attack from any angle," said the red haired teacher. The class gaped, until the blond said, "Gather your wands and prepare for the lesson of your lives." As they scurried around, picking up their wands while glancing furtively at the teachers, waiting for another attack, the woman spoke. "This class, until now, has been geared toward preparing you for a general array of threats, from boggarts and hinkypunks, to the occasional curse from another witch or wizard. Well, that ends now. As you all know, whether you choose to believe it or not, Voldemort was reborn last year. He is alive and attempting to rise to power once again. You all must learn to defend yourselves, as any of you who do not cross over to stand with the Death Eaters will become targets of his wrath. Now, pay attention. What you learn here today may very well decide whether you live or die." 


	7. 7

Dragon stared at Draco, watching the expressions run across his face, staring at the younger him, not completely innocent, but still only a child. In a few months, his father was going to try and get him to cross over to stand with the Death Eaters and when he refused, he was going to betray the fundamental trust between a parent and child and hand his son over to be "punished." The things that young Draco had suffered during that time were unspeakable. Weeks of torture at the hands of the Death Eaters had nearly killed him, had come so close to breaking him. Then Harry, Ron and Hermione had come and pulled him out and his life on the other side had begun. Looking at his younger self now, watching the superior sneer on his lips, he knew he had to do something to stop what was coming. Even if nothing else could be done to stop Voldemort, he would keep this boy from the pain he was facing.  
  
Harry, Hermione, Ron and the others trudged away from Defense Against the Dark Arts, exhausted, and made their way up the stairs, toward the Gryffindor Common Room. "Hey, there, Ron!" said George, as he and Fred came up behind them. "What's wrong with you lot?" asked Fred. "Defense Against The Dark Arts," said Ron, tiredly. The twins' eyes lit up. "Was it exciting then!? We heard the new teachers are great," said George. "Oh, yeah, they're great," Harry muttered, wryly. "They're teaching real stuff then, counter curses and such?" asked Fred. "We'll definitely be learning how to defend ourselves this year," said Hermione. They had reached the painting of the fat lady and George and Fred said the password in unison, obliviously, still going on about Defense Against The Dark Arts. When they entered the Common Room, the sight of the four time travelers effectively silenced the twins and they stared closely at Phoenix, then at Gryffindor, until, finally, George marched over and brushed the thick black hair off his forehead, revealing the scar. "Well, then. Suppose you all tell us what's going on here," said Fred, after a moment. A short silence ensued, then Phoenix said, gruffly, "You'd better sit down."  
  
Fred and George were completely silent the whole time that Gryffindor and the others told the tale of their arrival and their reasons for being there. When they finished, George spoke very slowly. "Am I to assume we've died then? Nothing short of that would have kept us from joining this little adventure." Phoenix nodded, his dark blue eyes riveted on his older brothers, who, at this time, were actually younger than him. "Ginny too?" asked Fred. "I know you wouldn't have left her behind." It was Gryffindor who nodded this time. The twins were quiet while they digested that information, then they stood up and faced Phoenix. "Ron. You look a lot like Bill, you know. Mum and Dad would be really proud of you," said George. The barest hint of a smile appeared on Phoenix's face. "All right then. Now that we know all of that, I think George and I are gonna go up to our room and think of some way to make sure we stay alive in the near future," said Fred, his words and tone jesting, but his eyes troubled. With that, the normally carefree twins made their way out of the Common Room.  
  
"We have to do something about this. We can't just wait for people to get a look at Gryff's scar and demand an explanation," said Dragon. "I suppose we should gather those people who need to know and leave the rest to wonder," said Hermione. "My thoughts exactly," said Niki. Harry, Gryff, Ron, Phoenix and Dragon all looked from one to the other of them and blinked, silently. Two Hermiones was going to take a while to get used to.  
  
Ginny sat, waiting patiently, while Gryff and the others gathered their thoughts and decided what they were going to say. They all looked at the door when Dragon and Phoenix appeared, dragging Draco Malfoy into the room. Ginny gasped and Harry and Ron stood up. "What's Malfoy doing here?" asked Harry. "This concerns him as well," said Dragon, and Harry and Ron sat down. Dragon was right. No matter their feelings for the Draco of this time, he was Dragon's past self and needed to be prepared. "Who else?" asked Ron. "Right now, no one. Oliver will be here in a few months, when Quidditch season starts and we'll fill him in then," said Phoenix. "Very well. We'd better get started," said Niki. "Why've you brought me here!? What do you want?" Draco demanded, his eyes wide. "Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry, tiredly. "Watch your mouth, Potter! If my father- " "Shut up!" Dragon roared. Draco cowered and fell silent. "Do not ever use your father as a shield!" Dragon continued. "Why?" asked Draco, his curiosity overpowering his fear for the moment. "Sit down and we'll tell you. First you have to promise to keep your mouth shut and just listen. Any questions will have to wait until later. Got it?" asked Gryff. Draco nodded and sat down beside Ginny.  
  
Niki began the tale in that matter of fact voice of hers and the younger Harry, Ron and Hermione sat back and watched the expressions on Draco and Ginny's faces. Ginny looked like she was afraid, but fascinated and Draco looked skeptical at first. Then Dragon dragged him aside and hissed a few choice words and Malfoy family secrets at him and Draco blinked, then paled, as the truth of the matter sank in. "Then, you're me?" he stuttered, staring at Dragon. Dragon nodded. "I'm you after your father and the others get through with you and Harry, Ron and Hermione come after you." Draco flicked his eyes nervously toward the people in question. They were looking at him, soberly. "Why would you three come after me? With the way I've treated you, you should've left me to rot." "Because Dumbledore asked us to," said Ron. "And because we would never leave anyone to suffer that way," Hermione added, throwing Ron a chastising look. "As it turns out, young Draco, you have the makings of a fine wizard and once Dumbledore was through with your training, you're nearly as powerful as Harry," said Phoenix. "Guess that pure blood of yours came in handy after all, Draco," Harry quipped. Draco appeared to take this information in and sat down again, next to Ginny. The room fell silent, but for the crackling of the fire behind them, until Harry spoke and asked the question that was lurking in all of their minds. "What do we do now?"  
  
"Not much we can do. Train up, get the students ready for what's coming, and wait. Soon after Oliver returns, Lucius Malfoy will come for Draco. We have to be ready for that," said Gryff. "For now, I suggest we all get to bed. You lot have school tomorrow and our first class is an early one with the 7th Years," said Niki, with a wave of her hand toward the stairs. One by one, they rose to their feet and Draco looked around, at a loss. "I'll take you back to Slytherin House," said Dragon. Draco's eyes widened. "No! I want to stay here!" "You can't. Until your father comes for you, you must act like everything is normal," said Niki, gently. "No. I won't go back down there," Draco said, stubbornly, planting his feet and crossing his arms. Niki sighed and pulled out her wand. "I'm sorry, Draco." "For what?" "Petrificus Totalus!" Draco's eyes widened and his body straightened out, stiff as a board. Dragon caught him as he fell over. "It's a full body bind, Draco. I'll remove it when we get to Slytherin House." Holding the petrified boy over one shoulder, Dragon left the Gryffindor Common Room. "Now, off to bed with you all," said Niki. Harry and Ron made their way up to the boys' dormitory and Hermione walked with Ginny. The youngest Weasley threw a long look back at Gryff. His green eyes pained, he was watching her walk away and met her bold blue gaze steadily. A shiver passed through her and she turned away, walking up the stairs and toward her bed. 


	8. 8

Niki lay still, her head in Phoenix's lap, her brown eyes bright with unshed tears. Phoenix stroked her hair back, away from her face. "What is it?" "They're so young. We'll never be able to get them ready." "We can't save all of them, Niki. All we can do is prepare them to the best of our ability and give them the knowledge of what to expect," he said, gently, wiping away the stray tear that escaped from her eye. Niki sat up and looked at him, her hair falling over her bare shoulders. "Do you suppose we've altered things too much? Looking at them, us, I mean, I don't think they'll ever find each other as we did." "I doubt they will. We went through a lot together before we ever saw one another in that light. Hopefully, they won't ever have to suffer through the same things. If that means the same bonds won't be formed, we'll have to learn to accept that. It will change nothing between you and I." Niki sighed. "Hold me, Ron," she said, leaning toward him. Noting her momentary lapse, Phoenix pulled her near and lay down, pulling the thick quilts up over them. Other than the occasional far off hoot of an owl, the night was silent and sleep soon overtook them.  
  
Gryff sat up with a start when the door to the room creaked open. Out of habit, he reached for his wand. "Who's there?" "Me," came a soft voice and his hand stilled, his wand forgotten. "Ginny?" Silently, she padded barefoot to the side of his bed. In the little bit of moonlight filtering through the window, he could see her eyes were wide and a little nervous. "What are you doing here, Ginny?" His voice was raspy and hoarse as he forced down the flood of emotions that threatened to overcome him. "In your time, I died, didn't I?" He nodded and she came closer, close enough that he could smell her. The light scent of flowers, combined with the smell of her hair and skin, a perfume that was hers and hers alone and his memories came flooding back, breaking down the damn he'd built around them. He struggled for breath as she continued. "And it upset you, a lot. Why?" Her tone was innocently curious, but he knew what she was asking. "We- we were- together," he told her, haltingly. She nodded, once and gazed at him, pensively. "You miss her, me," she said. "More than anything," he agreed. "But you don't have to."  
  
He blinked, wondering if she was really saying the things he was hearing. "Because I'm right here." "Ginny. You don't know what you're saying. You were older then and things-" he began, forcing himself to choke out the words, to turn her away, when all he wanted to do was reach out and hold her. "Shh. Not that much older. I know exactly what I'm saying," she said, and he allowed himself to believe her. She stepped to the side of the bed and put her knee on the mattress, leaning forward. He remained perfectly still, until he felt the soft brush of her mouth against his. Then the air rushed out of his lungs and he found himself reaching for her, pulling her against him, feeling the warm softness of her body against his once again. His arms tightened around her as he took control of the soft kiss, deepening it, his mouth claiming hers. She welcomed him twining her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He tasted the sweetness, the inexperience and forced himself to hold back, to remember that this Ginny had never been held, or kissed or touched, that the things he remembered with her had not come to pass yet in this time. She gave freely, her whole heart in her kiss, her eyes closed and he pulled back a little, trying to catch his breath. "Ginny, I- we- Harry," he said, grasping at the only thing he could. "The Harry in this time-" "Will never see me as anything but Ron's little sister. Now hush," she said, kissing him again. Gryff gave up and lost himself in her sweet kisses.  
  
His hands slid down her sides, to her waist and he lifted her up and resettled her on his lap, her knees on either side of him. Her fingers were shaking when she unbuttoned her nightgown and let it slide off her shoulders, baring her pale skin to the cool night air. He blinked and trailed a finger down her collarbone, reverently touching the tip of one pink nipple. She shivered and leaned closer to him, pushing the covers off him and out of the way, so nothing separated them. Her flesh against his felt hot and her touch was searing, branding him, claiming him, again. Her fingers explored his chest, finding and tracing a few small scars, each of which she leaned down to kiss. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth when she scraped a fingernail over his nipple. With innocent guile, she drove him steadily crazy, touching and tasting, until she found his arousal, nestled against her belly. Her fingers closed around it, hesitantly and he drew a sharp breath. She jerked her hand away. "Did I hurt you?" "No, Ginny. You didn't hurt me," he said, pulling her against his chest and laying back on the bed. She stretched against him and a soft groan escaped him. He rolled her to her back, holding himself above her, his hips flush against hers. He watched her eyes as she raised her knees on either side of him and reached between them to guide him to her. "Ginny, are you sure?" She nodded and he closed his eyes, feeling the beginnings of her wet heat pressing against the tip of him. "Gryff," she said, quietly. He opened his eyes, meeting her blue gaze. "I've never done this before." "I know," he said, softly. "It was your first time before as well." She smiled. "I'm glad." He lowered himself to kiss her, lightly. "So am I." Her hands on his hips were pulling him gently forward and he slowly pressed into her, watching her face, until he saw her wince. He stopped. "Gryff, don't-" "Shh. I want you to be prepared," he said, sliding a hand underneath her, up to her neck, to hold the back of her head. Her hands settled on his shoulders and she nodded. His mouth came down on hers as he slid forward, burying himself in her softness, swallowing her sharp cry of pain and kissing away the tears that sprang to her eyes. The hand that wasn't holding her head was stroking up and down her side, comfortingly, as he remained still, allowing her body to adjust to his invasion.  
  
As the pain subsided, it was replaced by the strange sensation of fullness and a sense of anticipation, something she needed, but couldn't identify. Gryff solved the mystery for her when he slowly rotated his hips against hers and a jolt of something like electricity shot through her. Her eyes widened and she gasped and she heard him laugh, softly. His hand left her head and he gripped her hips and began to move within her, guiding her movements until she caught the natural rhythm. With every thrust of his body into hers, Ginny felt something build inside her, until she was straining, aching, almost, for whatever it was that was coming. Without warning, the ball of energy that had been building exploded and a cry was ripped from her throat, as her body arched against Gryff's, her nails piercing his shoulders. The sun exploded behind her closed eyelids and her body hummed as the remaining shards drifted back to Earth. Only a moment later, she distantly heard Gryff call her name and she knew he had found the sun as well and been caught in the same explosion. He collapsed onto her and clasped her against his chest, rolling to his back and holding her tightly as they both came slowly back to reality. Her body still holding his, Ginny rested her head on Gryff's chest and closed her eyes, falling quickly into her dreams. Gryff's arms tightened around her and he pressed a kiss on the top of her head, before allowing his own dreams to claim him.  
  
Dragon glanced at the stairs again and shook his head, stretching out on the couch in front of the fire. He'd spent a long time with Draco, talking to him, telling him in detail what was to come. When he'd left, it had been long past midnight and he'd paused outside the door to the room he and Gryff were sharing. He heard a soft female voice and drew his hand away from the knob. Ginny. Without a second thought, he'd turned around and returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. Now, lying on the overstuffed couch, he closed his eyes. He would have to find new sleeping arrangements in the morning. 


	9. 9

When Harry and Ron came downstairs the following morning, they were surprised to find Dragon asleep on the couch. Dobby had brought up the morning coffee and Ron filled a mug, then held the aromatic brew under Dragon's nose until the older man reached out for the mug. He took a drink of the hot black liquid and then sleepily cracked open his eyes. "What are you doing down here?" asked Harry. Dragon's eyes popped all the way open. "Uh-" He was saved from answering by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Three sets of eyes swung toward the stairwell, just in time to see Gryff descending, holding onto a very sleepy Ginny's hand. Ron and Harry's eyes nearly popped out of their heads and their jaws dropped open as Gryff placed a kiss on Ginny's forehead and then sent her toward the girls' dormitory with a gentle push. "Morning, Ron," she mumbled, as she passed them and disappeared into the other stairwell.  
  
Gryff's eyes moved to the two boys and he raised an eyebrow. Harry's mouth snapped shut, but Ron continued to gape like a fish, his mouth opening and closing, noiselessly. Nodding, as if he'd expected as much, Gryff walked to the coffee tray, poured himself a cup and sat down on the arm of Dragon's couch. "Good morning." "I can see that," said Dragon, with a grin. Gryff just took a drink of his coffee, but Dragon saw the faint blush that rose to his cheeks. "Gryff," said Harry, slowly, but was unable to finish whatever he was going to say, because Fred and George Weasley chose that moment to come tumbling down the stairs, laughing like mad. A moment later, Phoenix came hurtling after them and tackled George round the middle, dragging him back to the floor. Niki trailed down the stairs at a much slower pace, glancing at the three Weasleys and shaking her head a little. "What happened?" asked Hermione, appearing from the other side of the room. "Fred and George set up a trip wire right outside our door. Phoenix got caught in it as we came out of the room," Niki said. The others all chuckled, except Ron, who was still staring openmouthed at Gryff. The three brothers were still wrestling on the floor of the Common Room when Niki announced that it was time to go downstairs to the Great Hall so they could get something to eat before classes. Ginny came down the stairs in a rush, her face flushed as she pulled on her robes over her skirt and sweater. Gryff rose and smiled and she moved quickly to his side. Phoenix spotted them and stopped suddenly, his hands still around George's throat. George followed his gaze and grabbed Fred's robes, to get his attention. All four of the male Weasleys were staring at Gryff and Ginny as he leaned down, lightly kissed her mouth and led her from the room. Phoenix gaped, silently, looking much like his younger self at the moment. Fred and George just kept blinking, like they were afraid they weren't awake.  
  
"Phoenix, come on. We've got class. You two had better hurry up as well. You only have 20 minutes to get to the classroom," Niki announced. Their stupefied gazes swung to her and Phoenix rose to his feet and crossed the room to her side. "Did you see-" "Yes. Hurry up now. We'll be late." With that, Niki ushered him out of the room, leaving the others to follow at their own pace.  
  
Unsure how to take this new development, Phoenix eyed Gryff warily through most of Defense Against The Dark Arts class. Fred and George were also in the first class of the morning and sat stonily through Niki's beginning speech, before following the group outside to practice counter curses. Phoenix was glaring at Gryff's back when a hand slapped him on the back of the head and he spun around. "Ouch! What the hell was that for?" "Leave him alone, Phoenix. Think how it would be if it had been Niki we lost back then. What would you have done, faced with Hermione?" Dragon asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not the same. Ginny was younger than us, even then," Phoenix argued. "A whole year. Big deal. I'm warning you, Phoenix, leave it be, or you may find yourself without your best friend. I've never seen Gryff this happy since we lost Ginny. This may be exactly what we need to make him care enough to beat Voldemort. If he has this Ginny, here, and has another chance to save her, he'll do it, even if he dies trying," Dragon predicted. Phoenix sighed. "I suppose you're right. She's still my little sister though. He better not hurt her." Dragon gave him a look as if to say "are you kidding?" Phoenix shrugged, knowing he was right, that Gryff would die before he ever did anything to hurt Ginny.  
  
For once in her life, Hermione Granger was not paying attention in class. Her eyes were on the group across the field, where their future selves were teaching the 7th Year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Her gaze fell on Dragon and she found herself studying him, the proud tilt of his chin, the strong lines of his shoulders and chest, the chiseled perfection of his jaw. His mouth was full and inviting and curved into an amused grin as he watched the Weasley twins perform simultaneous Jelly Legs curses on each other, then collapse to the ground in a fit of laughter. His hair was loose today, falling around his face and down his back in glorious silver blond disarray. She couldn't quite identify that strange, fluttery feeling in her stomach, nor was she sure she wanted to. This was Draco Malfoy, after all. Sure, he was older and he was different, but he was still Draco. Then again, she had always admired Draco's brains and there was no denying he was gorgeous. Beautiful, powerful and now, honorable, it was no wonder he'd caught her attention, she reasoned.  
  
"Is summat wrong, 'Mione?" came Hagrid's heavily accented voice. Cheeks flaming, Hermione turned back to her teacher and friend, who was in the process of trimming a hippogryff's claws. "No, Hagrid, sorry," she said, quickly, earning sideways glances from Harry and Ron. On the other side of the group, at the center of the Slytherins, Draco caught her eye, briefly, raised an inquisitive eyebrow and then quickly looked away. She flushed again and tried to focus on Buckbeak, the hippogryff whose life she had once helped save. The majestic animal blinked large golden eyes at her, then inclined his head, just a little, and Hermione had the distinct, unsettling feeling that Beaky knew exactly whom she had been looking at and what she had been thinking. Her brown eyes narrowed, suspiciously. Sometimes it seemed that they gave Hagrid's Magical Creatures way too little credit. 


	10. 10

"What is with you, Hermione? You missed a question on Flitwick's exam," said Harry, worriedly. Hermione flushed and avoided the curious gazes of Ron and Harry as she hurried along the corridor toward the Gryffindor Common Room. She wasn't about to tell them that she was preoccupied thinking of Draco Malfoy, whether it be the future Draco or not. He was still a Malfoy. Still a Slytherin. Then again, Gryff and the others said that in their time, the houses had stopped feuding and banded together as a single force against Voldemort. So, she supposed being a Slytherin really didn't matter at all, did it?  
  
Gryff, Dragon, Niki and Phoenix all looked up when their younger selves piled through the doorway. Ginny was dozing against Gryff's shoulder and Ron cast her a slightly skewed glance before blinking and shaking his head and turning his attention back to the others. No one noticed Hermione's quick, shy glance at Dragon before she rushed up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, except for Niki, who squeezed Phoenix's hand quickly before rising to her feet and following. The boys collapsed onto armchairs and sighed, ignoring the two Hermiones.  
  
"He's not the same as the Draco you know," said a soft voice. Hermione's head snapped up. Niki was in the doorway to the room. "Wha- what are you talking about?" Hermione stuttered, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Dragon, of course. Honestly, Hermione, did you really expect me, of all people, not to notice?" Hermione sighed as her elder self came into the room and sat beside her on the bed. "But he is Draco, kind of," Hermione said. "And he's also a lot older than me. Why would he ever take any notice of me? It's hopeless, really," she said, miserably. Niki smiled. "Not that much older. Look at Gryff and Ginny. Besides, if it weren't for Phoenix, Dragon and I may very well have gotten together," Niki informed her. Hermione's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" Niki got a far away look in her eyes and when she spoke, her voice sounded different, distant almost.  
  
"When we pulled Draco out of his father's dungeon, he was a shadow of the man you see today, barely a trace of the boy you know left inside him. They had nearly completely broken him. We brought him back to Hogwarts wrapped in a cloak and shaking like mad. Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey gave him all the medical attention they could, but the damage was also inside him, like a poison in his mind, a cancer in his soul. I was very angry at first, when Dumbledore sent Phoenix and Gryff on a mission and ordered me to stay with Dragon and care for him. I resented him for keeping me from what I considered to be the more important job. After a day or two, however, I got over it and decided that if this was what I had been ordered to do, I would do it well. Dragon began to improve after that, slowly coming around and talking again, that haunted look in his eyes fading and he no longer jumped every time someone made a sound. We- grew close. There was a bond between us, chemistry, some kind of force drawing us together, but always the image of Phoenix stood between us. I loved Phoenix, even then, but a part of me loved Dragon as well, cared for the man he had been forced to become. I knew he felt the same, but he would never betray Phoenix or Gryff that way, not after we'd released him from his nightmares. Then, after a month, Phoenix and Gryff came home and Dragon and I put away our feelings and have kept them locked away ever since."  
  
Hermione stared at Niki, until the older girl realized she was still staring into space and blinked, bringing a hand to her suddenly flushed cheek. "Sorry. The memories are still pretty strong," she apologized. Hermione nodded. "So, anyway, don't give up hope on Dragon. He's a man, after all and that means we must make allowances and give him plenty of time and help when it comes to noticing what's right under his nose." Hermione suddenly grinned. "I have an idea," she stated. Niki's eyes widened. "Uh-oh." 


	11. 11

"Where's Hermione?" asked Harry, looking around the crowded Common Room. The others began scanning the crowd for her as well. "She said something about going down to check on Draco," said Niki, casually. They all stared at her. "Slytherin House? She went down there alone?" asked Dragon. Niki calmly nodded, surreptitiously noticing the panic that flashed across his face. Dragon rose abruptly to his feet and ran from the room. Gryff and Phoenix started to follow, but Niki stopped them. "I think Dragon can handle anything the Slytherins can throw at him. He was their leader once, after all." Gryff's green eyes narrowed, suspiciously, but he sat. Phoenix was still staring after Dragon, worry for Hermione evident in his eyes. Niki gave a sharp tug on his sleeve and he slid sullenly into his seat.  
  
Silently praying to every deity he had ever heard of, Dragon rushed down the stairs toward the dungeons. He knew damn well what the Slytherins were capable of when they caught someone unaware in the dungeons. Granted, Draco would probably keep things to a minimum, but even given the current situation, it was unlikely he would stop it completely. Draco was still Draco, after all. He had not undergone the forging by fire that would turn him into a man like Dragon. He was still fully capable of enjoying a good bout of torture, especially the torture of Hermione Granger, the best witch at Hogwarts, every teacher's pet, every wizarding parent's wet dream and Muggle born to boot. She was just too perfect a target for him to resist.  
  
'Well, this worked out really well,' Hermione thought to herself, wryly. Goyle's hand was large, hot and sweaty, pressing over her mouth and partially over her nose as well, making it hard to breathe. She couldn't see much past the sweat stained robe that nearly covered her face. It seemed her plan to get Dragon's attention was about to blow up in her face. Crabbe and Goyle had caught her just as she'd entered the dungeons. She wasn't sure where they were taking her but she was pretty sure she wasn't going to like it.  
  
"Basilisk," said Dragon, and watched the bricks rearrange themselves until the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room was revealed. He stepped into the room just in time to see the last scrap of a black robe disappearing down the stairs to the lower, secret dungeons. Cursing under his breath, he followed. His footsteps were silent on the stone stairs. From below, the sound of cruel laughter was getting louder. He heard a familiar voice say "Mudbloods should stay away from the dungeons, Granger. You're about to find out why." Draco's voice. His own. His footsteps became quicker and he stepped off the last stair, into the maze of the dungeons. Looking around he drew a sharp breath and felt panic take hold of him. There were at least a hundred ways to get lost down in these dungeons and Dragon, for the life of him, could not remember the way to the central chamber.  
  
Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes as a strong male hand squeezed her face and a gag was tied in place. She wasn't sure whose hand it was. She knew that Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Marcus Flint were there, at least and possibly others. They were all around her, pressing too close, hands grabbing at her, tearing her clothing, pulling her hair, groping, twisting, pinching and bruising her flesh. She whimpered when she heard a tearing sound and her robes fluttered to the floor around her. Her knee length skirt and white dress shirt provided little protection from their cruel hands and panic squeezed at her chest. Someone gripped the front of her shirt and yanked and the buttons popped loose, leaving the thin white fabric hanging open, baring the white lace bra she wore. Shaking uncontrollably, she tried to raise her arms and cover herself, but someone grabbed her wrists, wrenching them behind her and she felt cold iron clap around them. She had been shackled, to the floor, it seemed. Helpless to defend herself, silenced by the gag in her mouth, all she could do was shake and tug, uselessly, at the chains, as her skirt and the remains of her shirt were torn away. She'd lost her shoes some time ago, during her journey to this place and she was left standing, barefoot in the dark, in her underwear. "Not bad, Granger," came a harsh voice. Marcus Flint's breath was hot on her ear and she flinched away from him. He grasped a handful of her hair and yanked her back toward him, throwing her off balance and she fell against him. Laughter rumbled through the darkened room as he crushed her body against his and she felt the clear evidence of his arousal. She tried to shrink away, but he held her fast and she felt someone else press against her from behind. The hands were back, all over her body, rough fingers shoving their way under the cloth of her bra and panties. A choked sob escaped her and she felt her knees start to give way. The cruel hands held her up, though and she felt someone trying to unhook her bra. She twisted away and was punished with a slap to the face, hard enough to cause her head to snap to one side. She didn't cry out, she was in too much shock, unable to think, to reason, to believe that this was happening to her. Through her stupor she could have sworn she heard Draco Malfoy's voice say, "I think we've scared her enough. Let's knock her out and dump her somewhere." An answering voice, Flint's, probably, since Goyle and Crabbe never argued with their leader, said, "I think not. I'm not nearly through with her yet." "Flint-" Whatever else Malfoy said was lost when a second blow, this one to her temple, sent her reeling and she actually fell to the cold stone floor. Without the ability to catch herself with her hands, she landed hard on her right shoulder and cracked her head against the ground. The blackness of the dungeons suddenly got darker. 


	12. 12

Dragon heard the sickening crack of flesh against flesh and then a muffled thud as a body fell to the stone floor of the dungeon. There was a slight jingle of chains and he clenched his jaw. They had chained her. The thought of the cold, unforgiving iron around Hermione's slender wrists, rubbing against her tender, beautiful skin made him see red. He tamped down his rage, trying to think clearly, to focus and made another turn, going deeper into the maze. It was all starting to come back to him and every step he took made him more confident, more hopeful that he would find her soon.  
  
Draco felt sick to his stomach. Hermione was in a heap on the ground, her white lace panties and bra glowing dimly in the darkness of the dungeons. Flint was leering at her, removing his robes and Crabbe and Goyle were licking their lips in anticipation. The bigger, older Slytherin would not be deterred from taking what he wanted from Hermione, and Draco was almost out of options. The only choice he had left was to go for help, and that would blow his fragile cover. He could not let the others know what he knew of the future. He had to continue to act as he always had, as a Malfoy, as a Slytherin. Hermione. she would understand that, right? Flint wouldn't kill her or anything and everyone knew about her and Ron Weasley, so it wasn't like she was a virgin! Everyone did know, right? It was true, wasn't it? Draco's teeth pierced his lower lip and he tasted blood. What if she was a virgin?  
  
Hermione opened her eyes slowly as someone slapped her awake. Her eyes adjusted to the murky darkness and she saw Flint above her. After a moment of confusion, she remembered where she was and how she got there and realized that Flint was not wearing any clothes. Panic clutched at her and she suddenly found it hard to breathe through the gag as his fingers slid under her bra straps and yanked, snapping the thin elastic and tearing the lacy material away. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she kicked at him, futilely. Flint settled his weight on her legs to stop her feeble struggles and slid his thumbs under the waistband of her panties. "I'm going to fuck you, Granger," he told her, quietly and she whimpered.  
  
Draco backed away from the small group. Crabbe and Goyle didn't notice, they were too caught up in what Flint was doing and Flint, of course, was preoccupied. Hermione, however, looked toward him and her eyes met his own in a silent cry for help. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod and started to turn away, to run for help. He smashed, head on, into a broad, strong chest and fell backward, staring up into the furious visage of his future self.  
  
Dragon didn't even glance down at Draco. All he saw as he rounded the corner into the central chamber was Hermione, trapped on the floor beneath Marcus Flint, nearly naked and crying. Something took hold of him from inside and filled him with a rage unlike any he had ever experienced. He moved forward so fast that Crabbe and Goyle didn't have time to cry out a warning and he grabbed Marcus Flint by the hair, dragging him off Hermione and sending him flying against the wall. He hit the stone with a thud and dropped to the floor on his knees, rising quickly and narrowing his eyes at Dragon. "What the fuck are you doing down here?" the Slytherin hissed. Dragon didn't answer, just advanced on him and drew out his wand. With a steady hand and a deadly quiet voice, he pointed the wand at Flint and said the word "Crucio!"  
  
Flint's screams pierced the darkness and Crabbe and Goyle disappeared back into the maze. Draco stayed where he'd fallen, watching in fascinated horror as Flint writhed in pain on the filthy floor of the dungeon. Dragon turned his back on the boy and knelt beside Hermione, releasing the iron shackles with a mumbled "Alohamora." The second they fell away, Hermione sat up and yanked the gag from her mouth, gasping for air and sobbing at the same time. Dragon took off his cloak and wrapped it around her, drawing her against his chest and lifting her into his arms. Clasping her against him, Dragon stood and walked out of the central chamber. 


	13. 13

"Oh, Merlin, no," Niki whispered, her eyes as wide as the others' when Dragon walked into the Gryffindor Common Room with Hermione wrapped up in a cloak, shivering against his chest. Draco trailed, not far behind. The other Gryffindors in the room glanced at them and wisely melted from the room, not saying a word. "What happened?" Gryff and Harry demanded at once, rising to their feet. "Is she all right?" Phoenix asked. "Hermione?" said Ginny, worriedly. "'Mione, are you okay?" Ron asked. Niki said nothing, her face pale, her eyes full of guilt. Dragon didn't say a word, just walked past them and up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Ginny and Niki followed, silently and all eyes swung to Draco. "What happened to Hermione, Malfoy?" Ron asked, his voice cold. Draco seemed to shrink into himself and he took a step back from the Gryffindors. "I- she- the dungeons- Flint," he stuttered, as if he'd suddenly lost the ability to speak. "Leave him alone for now," said Gryff, his green eyes sharp, his tone sharper. "Wait until Dragon comes back down. We'll get the whole story then." Draco sat on the floor near the fire and avoided the piercing gazes of the four Gryffindor men.  
  
Dragon laid Hermione on her bed, very gently and knelt beside her. He brushed feather-light fingers over her already swelling cheek, noting the darkening bruises that spread from her temple, down her jaw line. She was watching him, silently and his silver eyes met her soft brown gaze for a moment before he stood and turned to face Niki and Ginny. At last, he spoke. "Take care of her. I'll be downstairs for a moment, then right outside the door." Every movement was tightly controlled as he strode out of the room and closed the door behind him.  
  
Niki and Ginny rushed to Hermione's side. "Hermione, are you okay?" Ginny asked, anxiously. "What happened down there? Oh, Merlin, how could I have been so stupid! I never should have agreed to that crazy plan!" Niki said, miserably. "I'm okay, Niki, Ginny. I swear. I'll be fine," Hermione said, through chattering teeth. "What happened?" Ginny asked. Hermione hung her head. "I had a plan, Ginny, to get Dragon's attention. Niki was to tell Dragon that I went down to Slytherin House, alone and we were sure he'd come after me. I was just going to wait at the bottom of the stairs for him, but Crabbe and Goyle caught me the moment I stepped into the dungeons." Ginny gasped. "Hermione! You know better than that! You've heard the stories about what the Slytherins do to people who get caught down there!" "I know. Please, Ginny, don't tell anyone," Hermione said, looking up at the younger girl with tear filled eyes. "All right. Just promise you won't ever try anything like that again," Ginny said, with a long-suffering sigh. "Oh, don't worry. I don't think I'll be going near the dungeons again for a long time," Hermione promised. "You still haven't told us what happened after they caught you," said Niki, softly. Hermione looked away. "They dragged me into some kind of hidden maze, a place underneath the Slytherin Common Room. It was Crabbe, Goyle, Flint and Malfoy." At Draco's name Niki's eyes widened in horror and she waited, holding her breath. "They chained me to the floor and told me they punished Mudbloods who got caught in the dungeons. Draco tried to get them to stop, I think, but Flint just kept taking off my clothes. Someone hit me," she said, raising a trembling hand to her bruised face. "When I woke up, Flint was sitting on top of me, trying to get my underwear off. And then Dragon came. He used the cruxatious curse on Flint, Niki. I can still hear him screaming in my head." Hermione shivered and pulled the cloak tighter around her. She looked up at Niki and Ginny. "Do you know what the worst part is?" Both of them shook their heads and Hermione's next words were very quiet. "It didn't bother me, hearing him scream like that. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to pay. I still want it. What kind of person does that make me?" she asked, softly. "Human," said Niki, without hesitation. Ginny was nodding, her beautiful, tiny, fine-boned face set in stone as she agreed. Faced with the unwavering support of her friends, Hermione buried her face in her arms and cried.  
  
"You left him down there?" asked Gryff. Dragon nodded, his mercury eyes reflecting the dancing flames of the fire. "Do you suppose he'll go to Dumbledore? Try to get Dragon in trouble for using the Unforgivable Curse?" asked Ron. Phoenix shook his head. "No. Then he'd have to tell why. Flint's a Slytherin but he's not a complete idiot." "Should we go to Dumbledore?" asked Harry. Gryff glanced at him. "No. Dumbledore has enough to worry about. We'll get our own revenge. Oliver will be back soon. When he hears everything, he'll be delighted to take on an old enemy for us. He's been waiting for a chance and a reason to go after Flint for years," said the older man. "What do we do about him?" asked Ron, nodding toward Draco. "He could have stopped all of this." Draco's eyes widened and he looked at Dragon. His older self was studying him with hard, cold eyes. "I tried. I swear, Flint wouldn't listen. I didn't want them to hurt her," Draco said. "I was just going for help when Dragon arrived." "Is that true, Dragon?" asked Gryff. Dragon's eyes became hooded. "He was running. He bumped into me. Could've been going for help, or just trying to get away before help arrived." "Why should we believe you, Draco?" asked Phoenix. "Because I was there and I heard him," said a soft, tired female voice.  
  
All eyes swung to the stairs, where Hermione was standing, Ginny and Niki on either side of her. She was dressed and clean, Hogwarts robes unclasped and hanging, open, from her shoulders. "Draco tried to get Flint to stop, but Flint wouldn't listen. I heard it all. Leave him be." "But he could have kept any of this from happening," Harry argued. "He could have, but then he would have blown his cover. Remember, we have to keep up the appearance that nothing has changed, at least until Lucius Malfoy arrives," Hermione said. The guys all stared at her, then looked back at Draco. "Get him out of here, Gryff. Let him go back and deal with Flint. That should be punishment enough," said Niki. Gryff looked to Hermione and she nodded. "Very well." Grabbing Draco firmly by the upper arm, he escorted the Slytherin from the room. 


	14. 14

Dragon leaned back against Hermione's door and sighed. Ginny was with Gryff, so Hermione was alone in the room. He could hear her moving around, getting ready for bed. In the silence of the hallway, he reviewed the events of the evening in his mind. The panic when he learned Hermione had gone down to the dungeons alone. The rage when he'd found Flint assaulting her. The anger that had filled him, the raw, white-hot fury, had blinded him. He had used the cruxatious curse on Marcus Flint. It was a punishment he had sworn he would never inflict on any other living creature, having been tortured with it numerous times before. Yet, he had done it without a second thought, knowing only that he wanted Flint to hurt, to pay, for what he had done and was planning on doing to Hermione. In his mind, he examined his feelings and realized that he wasn't sorry, even now. In fact, he could still feel the rage flowing through him and his hands clenched, unconsciously into fists at his sides. He wasn't paying attention and fell backward as the door opened behind him.  
  
Hermione looked down as Dragon opened his eyes. Lying flat on his back in her doorway, he looked adorably confused. "Is something wrong?" he asked, finally. She shook her head. "I just didn't think you would be very comfortable out here. I wanted to tell you that it would be okay if you came in. Ginny's bed is empty, you know." Dragon studied her face, her eyes. She was outwardly calm, but he saw the raw fear in her eyes. "All right," he said, getting to his feet. He stepped into the room and locked the door behind him. With a shy glance back at him, Hermione crossed the room and got into bed. Dragon's eyes flicked around the room, quickly, and then he sat on the bed and began removing his boots. As he unlaced the high, dragon-hide boots, he surreptitiously watched her pretend to sleep, deliberately not watching him. With his mercury eyes still locked on her, he stripped off his shirt and walked, in stocking feet, across the room, to stand beside her bed. "Hermione."  
  
Her eyes popped open and she rose onto one elbow, as he knelt at her side. "Are you really okay?" She lowered her gaze a little, staring at the flames in the hearth behind him. "Just a few scrapes and bruises," she mumbled. He rose up off his knees and sat on the edge of her bed. "Show me."  
  
Eyes still averted, fingers shaking, Hermione unbuttoned her pajama top and slid the silk down, baring her shoulders. Dragon carefully pushed her heavy hair off her neck and his breath hissed through his teeth when he saw the scrapes and the still darkening purple bruises. His fingers brushed over them, feather-light and trembling. Following the line of bruising, he tangled his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and felt the raised bumps on the back of her head. His fingertips brushed over them lightly and he slowly drew his hands away, watching her face. "Does it hurt?" She shrugged, pulling her top back up. "A little. It's going away though. Niki healed it right away."  
  
Dragon slowly sat back, studying her. She had been through Hell and she seemed to be doing okay. It was more than he would have expected from a fifth year. Then again, it was Hermione, Nikki's younger self. He should have known she would be just as strong, just as brave as the woman she would become. She didn't look a great deal different, either. Nikki's hair was a little longer, her face a little more angular, her eyes a little more tired and she was, of course, a few inches taller.  
  
Hermione watched him study her face and let herself study him in return. His hair was loose, hanging halfway down his back in a silver- blond sheet, with a few stray locks around his face, a big change from the carefully gelled, slicked style that Draco always sported. Dragon's eyes were soft and hard, warm and cold, all at once, ever shifting pools of mercury and his pale, pale skin had been darkened by years in the sun. His jaw-line was strong and defined and the scar on his face made him look tough, dangerous. He was dangerous, she supposed, to any who crossed him, but right at the moment, she had the strangest feeling that she was safer with him than she had ever been in her life.  
  
He started to draw away from her and stand up and she grabbed his wrist without even thinking about it. He stopped and met her gaze. "Stay. Please," she said, softly. He paused, then nodded and sat back down on the bed. With a shy glance at him, Hermione pulled back the blankets and slid between her sheets and Dragon laid beside her. He reached out and switched off the lamp beside her bed, leaving them in darkness, but for the soft glow of the small fire in the fireplace. They lay in silence for a while and then Hermione's voice, sounding incredibly small, said, "Dragon?" "Yeah?" "Hold me." He reached out and gathered her slender frame in his arms and pulled her close. 


	15. 15

Firelight flickered over golden skin as clothing slid away with the barest whisper. There was a bed three feet away, but it seemed too far to be bothered with and Phoenix laid Niki gently back on the thick rug. Her hair spread out around her, she looked up at him with warm brown eyes and he touched her face, reverently, before leaning down to kiss her. She put her hands on either side of his face and slid her fingers into his hair, holding him to her as she returned and deepened the kiss. Her hands trailed through his hair and down to his shoulders, over his chest and to his hips, gently pulling him down. His weight settled onto her, warm, comforting and she lightly scraped the base of his spine with her nails. Phoenix shivered and braced himself on his elbows, looking down at her. She smiled back, a slight curving at the corner of her mouth, then wrapped her legs around his waist. His right hand slid under her head and lightly gripped the back of her neck. His cerulean gaze locked onto hers and stayed there as he slid into her heat. Her lips parted and a soft sigh escaped her at the familiar feeling of him inside her, filling her. Still, their gazes stayed locked together, even as Phoenix slid his free hand down to her hip and began to move, slowly, rocking in that timeless, ancient rhythm. Her hands slid up his back and her nails dug into his shoulders as her world started to spin. Soft sounds came from her throat and her motions became faster and more intense as the ache began to build. Phoenix's hand on her neck tightened and she saw him fighting for control. "Stop it," she breathed. He groaned, softly and closed his eyes, leaning lower over her as he thrust into her, harder and faster than before, to a degree just barely short of painful. Her legs tightened around his waist and her mouth opened in a silent cry as he drove her toward the edge of the world and over it. All the sudden, she was falling, she couldn't breathe and the universe was rushing by her, too fast to see. She heard her own voice call out his name, sounding incredibly far away and Phoenix buried his face in her neck, stifling his own cry as he buried himself deeply inside her and held her tightly against him. He shuddered and she felt his body trembling. Still trying to catch her breath, Niki tangled her fingers in his hair and held his head against her chest, closing her eyes and listening to him breathe.  
  
Ron rolled over in bed and pulled his pillow over his head. The soft sounds from above were unmistakable. Harry, across the room in his own bed, was silent, but Ron knew he wasn't asleep. He was lost in thought, the same ones as Ron. In the alternate future, he and Harry had developed relationships with Hermione and Ginny. Now that they really thought about it, that seemed to be the most probable course of events. But the arrival of their elder selves had changed things. Ginny was with Gryff and, by the looks of things, Dragon would soon claim Hermione as his own. So, where would that leave Harry and Ron? 


	16. 16

Harry, Ron and Hermione were in Defense Against The Dark Arts class when Oliver Wood returned to Hogwarts. He strolled onto the field, tall and broad-shouldered, his face pensive, his eyes scanning over the class until he found Harry's dark head among the others. "Harry!" he called out. The Gryffindors looked up and Harry stepped out of the group, his usual grin on his face. "Oliver! You're back." Oliver reached them and smiled. "Yeah, well, I've decided to take over Madame Hooch's position when she retires next year, so Dumbledore asked me to come and intern with her, so I'll have a good idea of what's going on." "Oliver," said a voice that was and wasn't Harry's. Oliver turned to face Gryff and then did a double take, his eyes locked on the scar that peeked out from behind his hair. "Harry?" He looked back at the younger Harry. "Why do I get the feeling I missed something?"  
  
"I need to sit down," said Oliver, shaking his head. "You are sitting down, Oliver," said Ron, helpfully. They were in the Gryffindor Common Room and had just explained to Oliver the situation to date. The only one of the time travelers missing from the room was Dragon and Oliver stared at the three students, then at their elder counterparts with something like awe. "You're them, only, not," he said, haltingly. "Yeah, well, we're here to make sure they never become us," said Niki. "So, are you in? Will you help us?" asked Harry. Oliver nodded without hesitation. "Of course. I'll do whatever you need me to. Voldemorte can't be allowed to rise to power."  
  
Draco rounded the corner, silently, his eyes scanning the hallway to make sure no one was watching and slipped into an empty classroom. Locking the door behind him, he made his way along the dark wall, his fingers trailing over the bricks until he found the one he wanted. Taking out his wand, he tapped it twice and said, "Dissendium." Immediately, the bricks began shifting, moving and rearranging themselves to form an opening. Draco stepped through and into the hidden room.  
  
The soft glow of a lantern lit the small space and Dragon glanced up, not looking surprised to see his younger self. Draco blinked at him, then sighed. "I should've known you'd remember this place," he muttered. Dragon smiled, a little sadly. "I remember when I discovered it, during my second year. I was looking for an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. I was so anxious to prove my worth to Voldemorte and my father, I wanted to help the Heir of Slytherin wipe out all the Mudbloods in the school. Then I found this place. I never told anyone about it, not even Crabbe and Goyle, or even Hermione, after everything that happened. It's always been a secret place where I could go when I needed to be completely alone." Draco sighed and sat down on the stool opposite of Dragon's. A small table, where the lantern sat, was between them and Draco leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "What's on your mind, Draco?" Dragon asked, leaning back in his seat, resting his shoulders on the brick wall behind him. "When you, I mean, we refuse Voldemorte, um, why do we do it? We're purebloods. We're better and more powerful than Mudbloods and the Dark Lord stands for everything we believe in," Draco said. "Do you really believe that, still, after all we've told you?" asked Dragon, leaning forward, with his eyes flashing. "I- I don't- I'm not sure," Draco finished, lamely. Dragon stared at him for a moment, then nodded a little. "Fine. I'll tell you what happened that day. Then maybe you'll understand why it's so important that Voldemorte does not come to power in the wizarding world."  
  
Dragon took a breath and closed his eyes, then began to speak, slowly, softly. The story he told was enough to chill Draco to the very marrow.  
  
Lucius Malfoy arrived at Hogwarts without any sort of warning and took Draco home for the weekend. He gave no excuse or reason and Draco knew that the day had finally come that he would take his rightful place beside his father, at the Dark Lord's right hand. Excited and, though he would never admit it, a little afraid, Draco eagerly readied himself for the meeting of the Death Eaters, when he would meet the Dark Lord at last and be either accepted or rejected as one of his followers.  
  
Dressed all in black, his silver-blond hair carefully slicked back, his silver eyes shining with excitement, he followed his father down the stairs and into the dungeons underneath the Malfoy mansion. The Death Eaters were waiting, gathered around a throne of some sort, standing on a large platform. As they approached the circle of Death Eaters parted and Voldemorte, the Dark Lord himself, rose to his feet.  
  
"This is your son, Lucius?" "Yes, my Lord," Lucius said, dropping to one knee on the filthy stone floor of the dungeon. Draco blinked, looking at his father, then at Voldemorte with disbelief and a little disgust. "Come, young Malfoy, let me have a look at you," said Voldemorte. Stifling the urge to turn and walk away, Draco stepped toward the platform. A hand like ice came from out of the voluminous black robes and gripped his chin, harshly. "You have your father's beauty, Draco, and his power. I wonder, do you have his cunning, his viciousness and his intelligence as well?" The voice was oily and slick and Draco felt it slide over him like something slimy and cold. "Of course, my Lord," he said, proud to hear his voice did not waver. The hand released his face and Voldemorte stepped back. "Kneel to me then, Draco Malfoy and swear your allegiance to the Death Eaters. Bow before me and join us in ridding the world of filthy Mudbloods and all those that defile the purity of wizarding families."  
  
Draco stared up at Voldemorte, then glanced back at his father. His pureblood father. His mother, another pureblood, was somewhere in the circle, hooded and masked like the others. He was a Malfoy, the only heir of the richest, most powerful wizarding family in the world. His gaze moved back to Voldemorte, standing high and mighty on the platform. The most feared wizard in the history of the wizarding world. Son of a penniless, no-name witch and a Muggle man who refused to even claim him. A Mudblood. Voldemorte was a Mudblood. The realization hit him like a sack of bricks and he blinked a few times. "Draco," Lucius hissed, "kneel." "Well, young Malfoy? Will you kneel before me and take your place with your father at my side?" Voldemorte prompted.  
  
"No." The word, spoken quietly, reverberated around the dungeon as if it had been shouted. Voldemorte blinked in disbelief. Draco took a breath and glanced down at his father, disdainfully. "A Malfoy bows to no one. Especially not a Mudblood."  
  
His father's face paled even further and a collective gasp went up from the Death Eaters. Draco looked back at Voldemorte, raised his chin, defiantly and turned his back on the Dark Lord. 


	17. 17

Hermione was staring at the ground as she walked, hurriedly, through the halls, toward the library. That was why she didn't see Draco until she ran straight into him. "Oh!" she cried, in surprise, as she bounced off his chest and almost fell. His hands grasped her arms and caught her, though and she was surprised at the strength in them. She slowly raised her eyes to meet the cold silver gaze, with a murmured "thanks," but stopped when she saw something flicker in those mercurial depths. He didn't release his hold on her arms, but his grip softened and he stared at her, studying her.  
  
Draco looked into the warm brown eyes of the girl in front of him and saw them widen. She was afraid of him. He loosened his hold on her, to be gentler, but didn't let go, fascinated by what the warmth of her skin under his palms made him feel like.  
  
Draco had never had much human contact. He was no innocent, that wasn't the issue. Sex was purely physical gratification, the fulfillment of a biological need. Contact was something more. A touch, a smile, a hug, any sign of true affection. That was contact and that was the one thing that Draco had been denied. His parents gave him everything except that. They were too cold and too wrapped up in their own lives and agendas. They'd conceived Draco to secure an heir for their fortune and insure the continuation of the Malfoy name, not because they wanted a child and they made sure he knew it too. Oh, they put on a great show in public, but when they were alone, Draco was simply another possession, to be dressed nicely, shown off and used as a pawn. Hermione wasn't one of them. Everything she felt, she felt honestly and she wasn't running from him. She was looking at him curiously, now a little worriedly and he felt a rush of warmth that she cared enough to worry. Her skin felt soft under his hands.  
  
"Draco?" she said, quietly. He blinked, met her gaze and then let go of her arms. "Sorry." "Are you all right?" Draco started to nod, but paused. Slowly, deliberately, he answered that question honestly for the first time in his life. "No, Hermione. I'm not all right." And he waited. Hermione's brows furrowed and she cocked her head to one side. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
She took him to the library, to a secluded corner, behind stacks of musty old books and lines of shelves. They sat down among the dusty tomes and Draco stared at his hands for a long time, in silence. "Draco, it's okay. You can tell me. I swear I won't say anything to anyone and I won't laugh or anything," Hermione coaxed. Draco glanced up at her and saw the truth shining on her face. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak.  
  
He told her everything. About the things Dragon had told him, about he way he'd been brought up to act, believe and feel. He talked about his parents and the Death Eaters and all the things they had pounded into his head since he was old enough to talk. His first word had been "Pureblood," according to his father, and he had been molded from infancy to stand at Voldemorte's side. Hermione's eyes grew wide, but she said nothing, just giving a little encouraging nod when he faltered. As the words left his mouth, Draco felt the weight of all he'd seen and done begin to lift. It was as if by telling her everything, he was releasing it, cleansing himself. When he fell silent at last, Hermione watched him for a while, quietly. When she spoke, finally, her voice was soft. "You know, Draco, you aren't your father. The reasons Dragon turned from Voldemort don't have to be yours as well. You have the power and the knowledge now to make your own choice." He nodded and she reached out and squeezed his hand, quickly, surprising him, before she stood up. "I have to get back to the Common Room. The others will be worried. You know where to find me if you need to talk some more." She turned to leave, then paused and glanced back. "Thank you for trusting me, Draco." Then she was gone.  
  
Dragon was pacing through Hermione's room like his namesake through a lair. With every step, he saw Flint again, saw his hands on pale flesh, bruising, hurting. Anything could have happened when Hermione wandered out of the Common Room alone, anything. In the small part of his mind where rationality still reigned, he knew that she was probably just fine. She was just on her way to the library after all. Not likely she'd meet any Slytherins there. That was the part of his brain that was whispering to him that he was worried because he cared for her, maybe more than he should.  
  
When she walked through the door, he practically pounced on her, his hands gripping her arms in an unknowing repeat of the way his younger self had grabbed her just an hour or so before. "Where have you been? You should've waited for me, I would've gone with you," he said. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "It's okay, Dragon. I just went to the library and besides, I wasn't alone. Draco was with me." He went still and had to force himself to be calm as a wave of jealousy hit him with the force of a tsunami. Briefly, he wondered if it was healthy to be jealous of one's self, but then decided it didn't matter. "What was Draco doing in the library?" "He needed someone to talk to. He was really upset," she said, perfectly calm and collected, as if it were no big deal. "Why are you so upset, Dragon? I'm a big girl and I'm perfectly capable of going to the library by myself." "I just don't want anything to happen to you," he said, haltingly, his grip on her arms loosening. Realization of the truth began to creep in and Hermione almost grinned, cocking her head to one side instead and asking, "Why's that, Dragon?" "Just- because," he faltered, releasing her.  
  
She felt him start to pull his hands away and stepped forward, placing her palms on his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart. Dragon froze, his fingertips still barely brushing her arms, as Hermione's hands slid up his chest and around his neck, her fingertips light and curious and incredibly sensual. His breath caught in his throat as she moved even closer, her body pressing against his from knee to shoulder, stood up on her toes and brushed her mouth across his. He drew a ragged breath, but still didn't move, though his hands were trembling. "Kiss me," she whispered, their lips still barely touching. "I can't," he breathed. "Why?" "Ron-" "Shut up, Dragon and fucking kiss me," she demanded, in the softest, most commanding whisper he'd ever heard.  
  
With a muttered curse, Dragon slid his arms tightly around her and crushed his mouth to hers. She welcomed him, twining her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair. She tasted like chocolate and innocence and he eased the kiss, just a little, his tongue warring with hers just a little more gently. He felt her smile a little against his mouth and he laced his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, cradling her head in his hand. She was pressed against him and he could feel every line, every curve of her body being branded into his soul. Releasing her head, he slid both hands down her back and over her hips to the backs of her thighs. He gripped her and lifted and she wrapped her legs around his waist, his hands supporting her weight. The short skirt did nothing to separate them, leaving only the thin satin of her panties and the denim of his jeans between them. Even through those barriers, he felt her heat and his body responded immediately. With a groan, he moved to her bed and sat on the mattress. His mouth left hers at last and she whimpered, softly, at the abandonment, until his lips touched the sensitive flesh under her jaw. Then she let her head fall back with a sigh, giving him further access to the pale skin of her neck and throat.  
  
His lips played across the silky perfection, his tongue darting out to taste, his teeth lightly grazing, sending shivers through her. Her hands left his hair to tug his t-shirt out of his jeans and pull it over his head, discarding it over her shoulder and then sliding her hands hungrily over well defined muscles and silken, battle-scarred skin. Her nails scraped over his nipples and they hardened. Noting the change, she ran her thumbs in light circles over the brown discs and was rewarded with a soft moan against the hollow of her throat. His fingers found the buttons of the short-sleeved, white shirt and quickly undid them, pushing back the cool cotton, revealing creamy skin and a delicate, white lace bra. She lifted her hands from him just long enough to slide the material down her arms and let it drop. His mouth worshiped her and he nuzzled the valley between her breasts, then took one nipple into his mouth through the thin lace.  
  
The sensations that coursed through her made her gasp and she arched into his mouth, her hands lacing into his hair to hold him there. He suckled gently through the material, then carefully pushed it aside to bare the perfect, dusky nipple and draw it back into his mouth. Her fingers tightened in his hair and he felt her legs tremble around him. A soft sound came from her throat and he released her tortured flesh to move to the other breast. His hands came up to her shoulders and slid the straps of her bra down her arms a little, giving full access to his new target. As his lips closed around the already hardened peak, his fingers deftly released the clasp of the bra and it slid down her arms. Pulling it off and dropping it over the side of the bed, Hermione closed her eyes and threaded Dragon's hair through her fingers, feeling the silky softness slide over her skin with the barest whisper. His hands drifted to her waist, to the side clasp of the wraparound skirt. With a flick of his fingers, it was undone and he slowly pulled the material away from her, until the offending skirt was dispatched to the same abyss that the rest of her clothing had gone to. In only the satin panties, Hermione shivered, as Dragon's tongue left a trail of fire down her belly and his teeth nipped at the waistband of her panties. Putting her hands on his chest, she pushed him back, until he was lying down. He watched her through hooded silver eyes as she gently scraped her nails down his chest and over the ridges of his stomach muscles. Reaching the button on his jeans, she undid it and slowly unzipped the zipper, tugging at the heavy denim that was barring her access to his flesh. He lifted his hips to help her and she pulled the pants off, dropping them, unceremoniously to the floor, as she crawled back up his body, bracing her knees on either side of him. She tossed her hair to one side and bent over him, running a pink tongue over his nipple, then suckling, as he had done to her. She felt him tense beneath her and she smiled, moving to pay the same attention to the other nipple. It was taking all of his control to keep his hands settled on her waist, allowing her to explore him fully, with no interruptions. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her through the thin satin and she slid back, pinning his legs and taking him gently into her hands. The breath left him in a hiss and she glanced up at his face. Dragon's eyes were closed and his lips were parted as her hands moved over his arousal. He was satin covered steel, warm and throbbing in her palms and she slowly lowered her head to taste him. The moment her tongue touched the silken tip, he let out a moan and pulled her mouth up to his, kissing her for a long time before finally allowing her to pull back. "What's wrong?" she asked, breathlessly. "Not like that," he whispered and she understood. Dragon's control was stretched thin and he didn't want to finish that way. She may not have ever done this before, but she was Hermione Granger and there was very little she hadn't studied to at least some degree. Human biology was something even Muggle children learned.  
  
Leaning down to kiss him, lightly this time, her teeth gently nipping and tugging at his lower lip, Hermione guided his hands to her panties and he slipped his thumbs under the elastic band, sliding them down, over her hips. She shifted and helped him get the panties all the way off, then lowered herself onto him, completely.  
  
The heat of naked flesh against naked flesh nearly took her breath away. Carefully, she sat up, astride him and positioned herself over him, so that he was pressing at her entrance. She bit her lip, suddenly unsure of herself. The books had been helpful, but none of them had given any instructions for this. Seeing her uncertainty, Dragon reached up and drew her back down to him. "We don't have to-" "I want to. I just- don't know how to- if we can-" she faltered. "Shh. It's fine. This way you have all the control. Just take it as slowly as you need to," he soothed, stroking her hair back. She looked into his eyes and saw the honesty there, then nodded, pressing her weight onto him.  
  
Dragon's jaw clenched as she lowered herself onto him, her tight heat closing around him at an agonizing pace. He felt her tense as they reached her barrier, but she didn't stop. He saw a drop of blood appear on her lower lip as he breached the thin membrane and then was sheathed completely. He slid his hands up from her waist and drew her down once more, kissing away the blood her teeth had drawn as her body adjusted to him. She was still for a long time, as he kissed her and stroked her back. When the pain had subsided, the feeling of him inside her, as part of her, was something that she would never be able to describe. The lightening that shot up her spine when she moved her hips made her gasp and Dragon's hands settled at her waist, guiding her motions as she began to rock, riding him, letting the sensations take her over. Her head fell back and her eyes closed and Dragon watched her in fascination as she peaked, her body arching, her nails digging into his chest and a hoarse cry was torn from her throat. Then he saw nothing but a million sunbursts as he came, releasing his seed into her body and dragging her mouth to his, clasping her against his chest. She hung onto him, as if afraid of falling, her nails still imbedded in his chest, their breath coming fast and hard. She shuddered against him as an aftershock of pleasure rolled through her, up her spine and down again and he kissed her temple.  
  
Dragon shifted them, slowly, so that they were lying against the pillows and he drew the comforter up over them, still holding Hermione tightly, still buried in her heat. Warm and safer than she'd ever felt, locked in her lover's strong arms, Hermione closed her eyes and slept. Kissing the top of her head, tightening his hold on her, just a little, Dragon quickly followed her into sleep's abyss. 


End file.
